


Alive

by sinjablogging (sleepyzenpanda)



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic, Sinbad no Bouken - Fandom, The Adventures of Sinbad (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant Minor Charater Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Sinbad no Bouken, Sinbad's POV, Sindria 1.0, Sinja, SnB Ch 170
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-20 15:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13149420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyzenpanda/pseuds/sinjablogging
Summary: Amidst everthing that he's lost, Sinbad is just glad to have found him alive: Ja'far's assimilation from Sinbad's POV





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murphy-stoffelis](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=murphy-stoffelis).



> Written as a gift for the wonderful murphy-stoffelis as part of the Magi New Years Gift Exchange on tumblr
> 
> I couldn't beleive there weren't any fics of this yet so I decided to write one. Takes place in SnB 170 from Sinbads POV. Thanks to ohfortheloveofsinbad for helping me with the description of Ja'far's scales. My writing skills have gotten pretty rusty so I apologize in advance.

Hinahoho had told him to go on ahead to the warehouse where Ja’far and the other workers of the Sindria company had evacuated the remaining citizens and that they would catch up with him later. Pipirika still needed some time with Mystras. No doubt Hinahoho intended to stay behind to console his sister. Sinbad was deeply troubled by Mystras’s assimilation and the loss of his dear comrade, but as king it was his duty to protect his citizens. He had to keep moving forward with his head held high, no matter his personal feelings, or the people that looked to him as their leader would lose hope.

As Sinbad rushed towards the warehouse he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. He tried to push away the growing feeling of dread and reminded himself that Ja’far, Vittel and Mahad were former assassins and were fully capable of defending the citizens.

_‘But Mystras…’_

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he continued to make his way towards his destination. 

As he approached the warehouse he couldn’t help but feel it was far too quiet. He was not expecting to hear the usual sounds of boisterous voices of people as they made their way through the marketplace, of course not with the current state of thing, but he should at least be hearing the hushed whispers of his generals and staff as they gave commands to stay hidden. At the very he least he should hear the rustle of clothing or of people shifting around.  He felt like he had swallowed lead and it was slowly sinking to the pit of his stomach.

The smell hit him before he had even reached the door. There was no mistaking the distinct sent of ozone given off only by large quantities of magoi. Sinbad was immediately worried that Barbarossa had sent another metal vessel user to head the attack. His friends wouldn’t stand a chance against someone in full djinn equip.

As Sinbad raced inside his stomach churned as he was immediately hit with the horrifying stench of burnt human flesh. There were outlines of bodies throughout the warehouse but no corpses to have made them. He froze. Just what had happened in here?

His eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the where the charred remains of two familiar figures still stood. His heart filled with dread as he recognized them as the bodies of his friends Vittel and Mahad. Not far from the lie an emaciated corpse of someone Sinbad did not recognize. It appeared to be missing its head of. Sinbad assumed that must be what's left of the person responsible for this heinous act.

On the far side of the warehouse he saw him, the one person he did not want to see like this. Sinbad’s blood ran cold as images of that day in Zepar’s dungeon flashed through his mind. The words still rang through his head as clear as day,

_“I leave it all to you Sin.”_

He could still remember the earnest smile Ja'far had given him before he drove his darts through his own heart. There was so much blood— No! He refused to lose Ja’far again!

He didn’t think twice. Before he realized it, his feet had carried him across the warehouse. He immediately fell to his knees next to where Ja’far lie prone. Sinbad reached out to check on him, but he hesitated. He was afraid. Terrified of the possibility that _this_ time Ja’far might really be gone. No, this was not the time for such thoughts. Hesitantly Sinbad brought his hand to the boy’s pulse.

He was alive.

Sinbad released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as relief washed over him. Until Sinbad noticed the tattered sleeve of Ja’far’s robes. He was horrified at what this might suggest. Upon closer inspection he was relieved to find the boy had only been lying awkwardly on his right arm. However, that feeling of relief was short live.

As he turned the boy over Sinbad was greeted with the site of smooth serpentine scales of pale sliver that glimmered in the faint light covering Ja’far’s arm and chest and ran all the way up both sides of his neck. The edges were laced with the faintest hint of blue giving them a lovely azure undertone. As Sinbad ran his fingers over them he discovered they were slightly cool to the touch. Was this assimilation? Would Ja’far end up like Drakon? A shudder ran up his spine at the thought.

Drakon was a dear friend and Sinbad loved him no matter what form he took. Even though Sinbad recognized him immediately after his change in appearance Sinbad could not deny that the assimilation had changed him. It’s true that Drakon had always been loyal to the one he served, but at the beginning he and Sinbad were always butting heads. Sinbad had seen him as stubborn and unquestioning of those in higher authority to the point of naivete and Drakon had seen him as an arrogant and irresponsible brat.

Even after Sinbad had earned his respect Drakon’s pride refused to allow him to humble himself before him, not that that’s what Sinbad wanted from the man anyway. But all that change after Drakon had appeared before him with Serendine that day, begging him to offer them sanctuary. Of course, Sinbad had obliged, but such a drastic change in demeanor could not be attributed to the circumstances alone. The power of the djinn had changed him.

The thought of something similar happening to Ja’far was unbearably painful. Ja’far who was always putting up with Sinbad’s antics. Ja’far who had to drag him out of bed in the morning and haul him home at night and put him to bead when he stayed out too late and had one too many drinks. Ja’far who never hesitated to put him in his place when his antics got them into trouble. Ja’far who had vowed to take his life if he were ever to lose himself again. He had come so far from the adorable foul mouth brat he had once been. If that was the power of the household vessels then Sinbad wanted none of it. If assimilation meant his friends would lose themselves to the power of the djinn then Sinbad vowed that they should never use their household vessels again. He refused to lose anyone else.

Ja’far’s scales began to recede and he sighed in relief. At some point Sinbad had taken Ja’far into his arms. The soft puffs of warm air against his chest as he cradled the boys head soothed his frazzled nerves. He wasn’t sure when but at some point his vision had become blurry and his eyes began to sting. To calm himself Sinbad carded his fingers through the feathery soft locks of Ja’far’s silver-white hair. In the distance he was vaguely aware of Hinahoho having entered the warehouse.

“Is he—?” the giant asked as he tentatively approached.

“He’s alive,” said Sinbad.

“Thank god,” the Imuchakk replied. “What happened to the others?” he was almost afraid to ask.

“I don’t know. But it looks like Vittel and Mahad died protecting him.”

They both knew how hard this would be for him. Ja’far had been through hell in his short life. Having been forced to take the lives of his parents at an early age Ja’far had been forced into the life of an assassin. Assassin weren’t people you could readily trust, so even though he later became their superior Vittel and Mahad had basically raised him.

“Sinbad, we need to find Rurumu and the others and get to the boats,” Hinahoho suggested.

The Imuchakk moved to take Ja’far so he could carry the boy, but this only prompted Sinbad to hold on to him tighter. Sinbad refused to relinquish his grasp on Ja'far as if he was afraid, that if he let go, he would disappear forever.

Hinahoho sighed, “What if I help move him so you can carry him on your back?”

Sinbad nodded in agreement.

So, Hinahoho helped position Ja’far on Sinbad’s back. Sinbad hooked his arms under his legs and the giant wrapped the boy’s arms around Sinbad’s neck for security then helped his King stand up. Slowly the three of them made their way out of the remains of the warehouse, leaving their fallen comrades behind.

As they walked Sinbad cherished the feeling of rhythmic _thump, thump, thump_ against his back. He could feel the steady soft puffs of warm air on the back of his neck. Ja’far was alive, and that’s all that mattered. And for that he was eternally grateful.

~End~

* * *

 

I’m sorry this is so short T-T I had originally planned this as one-shot, and I really wanted to do a mush scene where Ja’far wakes up but I school started again and I go crunched for time. I might write that as a continuation if people are interested. I’m really busy with my last semester at Uni so I’m not sure when I’ll have time to write it though.

Thank you for reading!


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